Sick. We're sick.
And I don't mean the kind of sick you nurse with a giant mug of tea and a box of tissues, either. Oh, no. Nothing pansy-ass like a cold or inflamed lymph nodes for us, man. We're Lemons.
We take our sickness like men!I want my mommy.
It all started innocently enough about 3 weeks ago when Lemony Brother woke up one morning complaining that his stomach hurt. I was about to question the nature of the stomach pain when the kid ran to the bathroom.
kind of stomach pain."
The poor child continued to heave and retch for the next 4 hours or so, but then it was over and he wanted to eat a cheeseburger.
"Um, yeah. With pickles and mustard."
"Um, no...here...have a cracker."
"YUCK! CRACKERS SUCK!"
Suck it up kid. Life is full of unpleasantries like eating crackers. I mean, duh...it's life.
Hello? Who promised you a cheeseburger parade?
End of the story...until 12 hours later when Lemony Child started having the exact same stomach pain. Another 16 hours and Lemony Teen was whinging loudly about gastrointestinal distress. It wasn't pleasant, but it was quick, and soon, with the help of a can of Lysol and a box of Clorox wipes, the dastardly bug was banished.
Or so we thought.
Turns out the bastard had other plans.
I woke up on a Thursday morning. Nothing unusual, really, since I wake up every
Thursday morning. As I debated my exercise regimen of the day - walk the dog? elliptical machine and put the dog outside in the yard? yoga and wrestle the dog off me? sleep? - I realized something...it was dark. Not early-morning, the-sun-is-thisclose-being-here-dark, but what-the-hell-time-is-it? dark. As I squinted in the direction of the clock I realized something else...my stomach hurt.
kind of hurt.
Let's just say I didn't have a pleasant day and when it was over, unlike Lemony Brother, I did not
want a cheeseburger.
Friday was okay. Not great, but I functioned at a high enough level to earn my keep and prevent anarchy. I made it to the point where all I had left to do was get the Lemonettes settled into bed. With visions of the couch, a jar of Pepto, and four hours worth of Project Runway
on the TiVo, I tossed Lemony Child into the shower and Lemony Mutt into the family room...
"Mum, my stomach hurts."
kind of hurt.
And so it went, one after the other, the Lemonettes, Mr. Lemony, me...all of us, taking turns, trading off, feeling okay one day and dreadful the next. The pain was unbearable. The whinging was even worse. On and on it went, until finally I had had enough.
"UNCLE!" I shrieked at the next person who had the misfortune of spewing within my line of vision. "I can't TAKE IT! This is NOT NORMAL! This is not a virus! This is a MUTANT ALIEN STRAIN OF SOMETHING!"
I called the doctor. I explained our situation. Okay, fine, I cried and sobbed and begged for mercy. I admit it. Are you happy?
"So, Lemony, I'm thinking maybe you people don't have a virus. I'm thinking maybe you have a parasitic infection. What I need you to do is bring a stool sample to the lab..."
No, he wasn't kidding.
"What you need to do is put saran wrap on the bowl, under the lid, but make sure it's got some give to it...and then...well, dump it into some Tupperware or something. We only need about a tablespoon."
Oh, no, he so
Needless to say I won't be using that
Tupperware container for salad dressing ever again.
And so we wait while the lab cultures and tries to multiply whatever mutant alien strain of something has decided living with the Lemonys is great fun.
Until then? We pretend nobody deposited a sample in the salad dressing container and imagine a world where people can actually consume things created with cheese.
Forget about weapons of mass destruction...all anybody needs to do is harness this mutant alien strain of something and the earth? She is doomed.